A fresher perspective on aging
So here it comes. So close, finally, to the end of my freshman year. It’s been a hell of a ride: I didn’t really party, I got pretty good grades, and I think I touched a girl’s butt once without her even noticing.
I’m beginning to gain some different perspectives. Wisdom, as they say, comes with experience.
For the first time since I arrived at college, I feel comfortable hitting on freshman girls.
It was weird at first. For the last two years, getting with freshmen has been a huge no-no for those of us who don’t like the idea of pound-me-in-the-ass prison. It was strange to reset the clock and hear the word “freshman” signify something besides a scrawny 14-year-old.
Once I got over that, the other problem set in: for the duration of my earthly existence, college girls have been off limits for me. There isn’t a college-aged girl on planet earth who would consider a high school boy.
Then, boom! All of the sudden it’s open season for freshman ladies, the most coveted assssset on planet earth. Honestly, it was intimidating at first. And at second. I never got to third, so I have no comment there.
But now? I’m almost a sophomore. Soon, I’ll get the confidence to go after the newest batch of frosh.
I can’t tell you how exciting that is, because I’ve noticed something else this year: girls love older men. The only girl on my floor who didn’t hook up with a senior boy has technically been a girl since only last year. And “she” went to third.
These are, more or less, the reasons being a freshman boy is the worst sexual situation you can find yourself in. No way in hell you’re bagging an older girl. The ones your age are too busy furiously scanning the student directory for any senior they can find (even a bearded junior will do). And the ones younger than you, who might actually find you attractive via the universal law I described above, come with a court date attached.
But the end is near. I can smell the success. Though that might just be my roommate, but that doesn’t count. He has a girlfriend.
In fact, let me try this out right now. “HEY YOU, you there, the Bay Area girl with the soft brown hair, here for accepted students day, or a visit, or whatever bullshit. I see you. Get your acceptance letter yet? Got a scholarship? Awesome, we all did, get over it. Meet me at Oppenheimer, September 1 of next year. I’ll buy you some banana bread, and then it’s back to your dorm room to banana BANG.”
God, I love college. Or… I will. Whatever.